Chapter Text
The store was warm.
Almost too warm, actually, compared to the sharp Moscow winter air outside. Izuku shrugged out of his coat and folded it over the side of the cart, already feeling his shoulders loosen as his body adjusted.
Christmas decorations were everywhere.
Trees lined the aisles in neat rows. Tall ones, short ones, real ones that still smelled faintly of pine, and artificial ones that absolutely did not. White lights were strung overhead, and garlands hung from the ceiling, brushing against the air when people walked by. Shelves were packed tight with ornaments in every color imaginable.
It was a lot.
Izuku stopped near one of the displays, one hand resting on the cart’s handle.
Alexei shifted against his chest.
He was snug against his chest in the baby carrier, bundled in a knit sweater and a scarf that refused to stay where Izuku put it. He shifted restlessly, one hand gripping Izuku’s shirt while the other reached outward, tiny fingers flexing as if testing whether the lights were close enough to touch.
Izuku smiled without thinking.
“Okay,” he murmured, pushing the cart forward just a bit. “We can look. Just… no touching.”
Not that Alexei usually touched things. He wasn’t that kind of baby.
He just stared.
His big eyes moved constantly, tracking everything that moved or came in close proximity to him. He didn’t fuss or babble, just watched, head tilting slightly as if he was sorting everything out in his head.
Izuku had noticed it before, how Alexei always seemed to take his time, like he wanted to understand something before reacting to it.
That was Nikolai, through and through.
Izuku pointed as they passed a row of small trees. “Look! That one’s tiny,” he said excitedly. “Do you see it?”
Alexei made a small noise in response, then immediately tried to put his fingers in his mouth. Izuku caught his hand gently and wiped it on his sleeve.
“Nope,” he said, amused. “You were touching dirty toys earlier.”
Alexei frowned at him, deeply offended, then immediately lost interest when a string of lights flickered nearby. His attention shifted so fast it almost made Izuku laugh. One second he was focused and serious, the next he was squirming, legs kicking lightly, clearly ready to move on.
He adjusted the carrier, lifting Alexei a little higher and smoothing down his curls. They were already starting to come loose, soft silver-blond spirals brushing his forehead.
Izuku made a mental note to fix them later, even though he knew they wouldn’t stay that way for long.
He would know.
Shopping with a one-year-old was… different.
Not harder, exactly. Just slower. And slightly stressful.
But as Izuku nudged the cart forward again, feeling Alexei settle against his chest, he couldn’t bring himself to mind it.
Not even a little.
He leaned closer to one of the displays, angling himself so Alexei could see better. “Do you like them?,” he asked softly. “Those are called reindeers.”
Alexei let out a small, breathy laugh, and kicked his feet against Izuku’s stomach in excitement.
“Yeah,” Izuku laughed under his breath. “I know, they're pretty.”
They passed another display of ornaments shaped like stars and moons. Alexei’s attention locking onto them immediately. His fingers twitched, brushing the edge of Izuku’s sweater, and he leaned forward as far as the carrier allowed.
Izuku gently tapped one of the stars so it spun. “You already have too many at home.”
Alexei remained staring at the reflection of the star with complete fascination. And Izuku couldn't help but feel the familiar urge to squeeze him close, to preen and fuss and tell the world how clever his baby boy was.
Because he could still remember Alexei as a few-month-old, lying on his back in the nursery, staring up at the ceiling with that same intensity. Nikolai had spent weeks building the hologram that projected constellations and slowly rotating planets above the crib, tweaking it late into the night before Izuku’s labor day. Which had held Alexei's attention for impossibly long stretches of time.
Back then, Izuku had thought it was just fascination with light and movement.
Now, he knew better.
Alexei recognized things well before he was supposed too.
He pointed at pictures in books, at posters on the street, at that small Saturn plushie he’d spotted in a shop window when he was ten months old. His tiny finger tapping insistently against the glass until Nikolai had stopped dead in his tracks. Since then, astronomy documentaries had replaced the bright, noisy cartoons Izuku sometimes tried to put on for him. Which Alexei had very clearly decided were boring.
He apparently had strong opinions on what was worth his time.
That part, Izuku had learned, also came from Nikolai.
Izuku was at least grateful that his son had some of him in him.
Because most days it was impossible not to notice how much Alexei took after the Volkovs, how it showed in the quiet but demanding ways he sought attention without ever needing to cry. The way he would toss his blanket out of the crib and then simply wait, eyes fixed on Izuku until he noticed. The way he had somehow figured out how to turn the television on by himself, despite Izuku being very sure he wasn’t supposed to know how to do that yet. The way he clearly didn’t like people he didn’t know, watching them with open suspicion until they left his space.
And especially in the way he reacted whenever Nikolai pulled Izuku's attention from him to get a kiss.
Alexei had stared him down the first time it happened, full eye contact, unblinking, like he had taken it as a personal offense. It had happened more than once since then, and each time Izuku had to bite back a laugh at how unmistakably Volkov it was—possessive, territorial, and entirely serious about it.
But it wasn’t all Nikolai.
There were parts of Alexei that Izuku recognized immediately, parts that felt achingly familiar in a way that caught him off guard when he thought about it for too long. The curiosity that drove him to watch everything and everyone with wide, intent eyes. The way he always sought warmth first, pressing himself closer, relaxing the second he was held. The way he loved being near the people he trusted, content to stay there as long as he was allowed.
Even the moments when he pushed Nikolai away felt familiar, the way he would squirm in his arms or turn his face aside, not out of rejection but out of that same quiet insistence on choosing when and how he wanted closeness.
Izuku glanced down at him, at the soft curls and focused eyes, and felt that familiar swell in his chest.
A little of Nikolai.
A little of him.
His gaze drifted toward the back end of the rows without him quite meaning for it to happen, catching on a tree that stood a little apart from the others, taller and fuller, its branches wide and uneven in a way that made it feel alive rather than arranged.
And he couldn't help himself from imagining it in their living room, the lights strung loosely, Alexei sitting on the floor beneath it with wide eyes and unsteady hands reaching for the lowest ornaments.
Their vacation home in Prague would have more than enough space for it.
More than enough space for anything, really.
Nikolai had bought it with the same quiet decisiveness he applied to everything else in his life, a place that was spacious to the point of being ridiculous in Izuku’s opinion, because to him all they had ever really needed was a kitchen, a bed, and a bathroom to feel settled and safe. A small cabin would have been perfect for winter, perfect for Alexei’s first Christmas, something warm and simple and easy to fill with noise and life.
But Nikolai didn’t live by that kind of logic.
He treated money like it was a language of its own, a way to show care and affection without having to explain it out loud, and Izuku had learned over time not to reject it, even when it felt excessive, because it was sincere in the way only Nikolai could manage.
Besides… it wasn’t as though Nikolai had ever cared much for Christmas.
Holidays had always been secondary to work, something that happened around him rather than with him, and more often than not he was abroad, busy, or simply uninterested in slowing down for a festivity he assumed Izuku would enjoy better with his mother and friends. Family gatherings had never held much meaning for him.
But things were different now.
They had Alexei.
Izuku looked back at the tree again, tall and steady at the end of the row, and felt the quiet hope settle in his chest that this year might be enough of a reason for Nikolai to reconsider, to stay, to be present, and to spend Christmas not just in the same place, but together, with all of the people who mattered to them most.
He knew he couldn’t decide any of it on his own, not the house, not the tree, not the way this Christmas would look, because so much of it depended on a man who loved deeply but showed it in ways that were sometimes hard to translate.
The carrier creaked softly as Alexei lifted his head, curls brushing against Izuku’s chin as he peeked up again, eyes immediately catching on the rows of pretty trees around them.
Izuku smiled and leaned his nose briefly against the top of his son’s curls, breathing him in.
“Let’s finish shopping,” he murmured softly, fingers brushing over Alexei’s tiny hand. “Then we’ll see what Papa says about a tree this year.”
Alexei babbled in response, utterly unconcerned with logistics.
Izuku pushed the cart forward, smiling to himself as the lights followed them down the aisle.
࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇
Snow had started to fall in earnest outside the house.
Izuku watched it drift past the tall windows as he tugged another box of ornaments open, the world outside muffled and white. The living room glowed softly, the fireplace already lit and crackling low, its light reflecting off the new decorations Vlada had insisted on setting along the mantle earlier that afternoon.
In Izuku's personal opinion, the house was still too big.
He thought that every time he stood in the middle of it, surrounded by high ceilings and open space, a vacation home that could only be described as a mansion no matter how politely Nikolai tried to phrase it. He still wasn’t used to how sound carried, or how warmth spread so slowly through rooms like this, even with the fire going and the heating turned up.
At least it felt lived in now.
The tree Nikolai sent lay on its side near the center of the room, half-fluffed and leaning dangerously as Izuku tried to hold it upright while Vlada knelt near the base, brow furrowed in concentration, one hand wrapped around a glass of wine she had absolutely no intention of putting down.
Alexei was settled nearby, bundled into a careful nest of blankets and cushions on the carpet, surrounded by a small collection of decorations that Izuku had deemed safe enough to distract him. He was busy with a plush reindeer, chewing thoughtfully on one corner of it while occasionally glancing up at the tree like he was keeping track of their progress.
Izuku adjusted his grip on the trunk and let out a small breath. “Okay,” he sighed, already bracing himself. “I think this thing is bigger than I needed.”
Vlada chuckled softly from where she was crouched near the base, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back in a way Izuku had learned meant she was fully committed to the task. “You say that about everything Kolya buys,” she replied, glancing up at him with a faint smile. "But it's Alexei's first Christmas, you might as well do it right."
He couldn’t really argue with that.
He’d told Nikolai the same thing earlier over the phone, half-joking and half-serious, which had earned him a low chuckle and a casual, I’ll send something tomorrow.
He hadn’t expected a real pine tree tall enough to nearly brush the fifteen-foot ceiling to arrive the very next morning, along with more boxes of decorations than Izuku felt emotionally prepared to unpack. He hadn’t even wanted to ask how much any of it cost, especially after spotting the Tiffany & Co. labels printed neatly along the sides of several boxes.
It felt excessive.
And yet, watching Alexei experience it all made the numbers feel irrelevant. He didn’t know, or care, that the ornament he was holding probably cost more than Izuku’s first apartment deposit. All he knew was that it sparkled, that it caught the light just right, and that it felt like magic in his small hands.
That was enough.
They maneuvered the tree upright with more effort than Izuku would have liked, the branches springing outward the moment the twine was cut, immediately claiming more space than he’d expected. He stepped back, breath a little uneven, while Vlada straightened and reclaimed her wine glass, circling the tree slowly with a critical tilt of her head.
“Well,” she said. “At least it’s straight.”
“For now,” Izuku muttered, adjusting the stand again.
Alexei chose that moment to let out an excited babble, clearly pleased with the chaos.
Vlada chuckled, the sound easy and unguarded, and moved closer to the fireplace to set her glass down on the mantle, which was already decorated with greenery and a few new ornaments that caught the firelight just right. “He looks like he approves,” she said, nodding toward Alexei.
Izuku followed her gaze. “He likes the lights. And anything he’s technically not allowed to touch.”
“Like most men.”
Izuku didn’t reply.
Vlada watched him with that familiar, assessing stare that always made his skin prickle and his hands grow restless.
“You want to talk about it?” she asked.
“What is there to talk about?”
He shoved the leftover plastic from one of the decorations into the trash bag with more force than necessary.
“You’re angry,” Vlada said calmly. “You might as well vent to someone who won’t take it personally.”
“I don’t want to talk,” Izuku muttered, crouching down to grab the remains of the empty boxes near Alexei, who was happily patting at a string of golden bells, blissfully unaware of the tension shifting around him.
Vlada didn’t push. She just watched him for another moment before speaking again.
“He’s not coming, is he.”
Izuku's gaze dropped to Alexei, fingers instinctively brushing soft curls away from his eyes, his thumb tracing the warmth of freckled, chubby cheeks that still felt unreal to him some days.
“No."
The word settled slowly, heavily, bringing everything else with it.
Nikolai would stay in Germany for work.
The same work that had always pulled him across borders and holidays long before Izuku had ever been part of his life. And he understood that in the way he always had, logically and without resentment, because travel and absence were not new things and Nikolai had never pretended otherwise. Yet they had a family now. And the closer Christmas came the more that understanding began to sit alongside a quiet, persistent dread that he couldn’t quite reason away.
He didn’t blame Nikolai for choosing responsibility over sentiment. For doing what he had always done and done well. But knowing that didn’t stop the distance from feeling heavier this time, more personal, as though something fragile had been placed between them and left unattended, and it frightened him how much he felt it.
It had been almost two months since he’d last seen him, long enough that the absence had started to feel physical.
Because there were moments, late at night or in the quiet spaces between tasks, when Izuku found himself pressing one of Nikolai’s suits close to his chest simply because it was all he had. A habit he found faintly embarrassing even as he continued to do it, telling himself it didn’t mean anything more than missing his mate.
He told Nikolai he was fine, that he could handle things, that he understood how busy he was and that the Christmas party he was organizing would keep him distracted, even if Nikolai wouldn’t be there, and all of that was true in the way truths often were, incomplete but sincere.
What he didn’t say was how much it hurt to think about their first Christmas as a family unfolding without him, or how understanding didn’t stop the sadness from settling in his chest all the same, quiet and persistent, as he stood there watching Alexei play beneath the lights and tried not to dwell on what was missing.
“Did you tell him he’s going to miss Alexei’s first Christmas?” Vlada asked after a moment, her tone calm but unyielding, the kind that didn’t accuse so much as refuse to look away from the truth.
Izuku’s fingers stilled against the box he was holding, and he exhaled slowly before answering, already tired of the way the question pressed against something raw inside him. “I said something along those lines,” he admitted, his gaze never leaving Alexei as he tipped one of the bells sideways and watched it glint in the firelight. “But I didn’t want to put more pressure on him. He said he’d come as soon as he could, and if that isn’t him saying he’s trying his best to be here, then I don’t know what is.”
Vlada watched him for a beat longer than was comfortable, her expression unreadable, before she spoke again. “It clearly isn’t enough for you, though.”
Izuku swallowed as he turned back to the tree, reaching for a branch that didn’t actually need adjusting, simply because his hands needed something to do.
“I’m fine,” he said, the reassurance sounding thin even to his own ears, offered more out of habit than conviction, as if repeating it might eventually make it true.
“I know that’s bullshit,” she said plainly, “but I’m going to pretend it isn’t for now, because we do need to finish this before everyone else arrives tomorrow, and I’d rather not be untangling lights at midnight.” She glanced at him then, expression softening just a little. “We can pick this up whenever you want, though. I’m not going anywhere.”
Izuku nodded, grateful for the out even if it didn’t make the feeling go away, and turned back to the tree, adjusting a branch that was already perfectly fine while the fire crackled behind them and Alexei babbled to himself on the floor.
They worked for a few more minutes like that, the quiet settling into something manageable, and Izuku found himself thinking—like he often did—about how strange it still felt to have Vlada here, relaxed and barefoot in a living room instead of looming across a polished desk or courtroom, all sharp edges and calculated smiles. The same alpha who had once terrified him on sight and then gone on to dismantle his publishing agency piece by piece without breaking a sweat.
“You seem… lighter,” he said eventually, the thought slipping out before he could second-guess it, his eyes still on the tree.
Vlada looked at him then, her expression unreadable, though something in it suggested she hadn’t expected the comment.
“Since you started the firm, I mean,” he added, a little more carefully.
She hummed, considering it. “That obvious?”
“A little,” he admitted. “You don’t look like you’re constantly restraining the urge to bite someone’s head off.”
A corner of her mouth lifted. “That’s because now I get to choose who deserves it.” Then, more seriously, “It’s good work. Exhausting, but it’s mine. No more cleaning up messes for men who confuse power with intelligence.”
Izuku smiled at that, small but genuine, because it was exactly why he trusted her with his books, his contracts, his name, and because he knew firsthand how vicious she could be when she had her eyes set on a new target.
She was quiet for a moment, then leaned back against the arm of the couch, one foot hooking casually over the other as she stared into the fire, the flames catching faintly in her eyes. “I’ve also been seeing someone,” she said, almost offhand. “A few months now.”
Izuku froze mid-adjustment, fingers tangled in tinsel as he turned to look at her. “Months?” The surprise slipped into his voice before he could stop it. “You’ve been very quiet about it.”
“On purpose.”
“Of course,” he muttered, shaking his head.
She smiled faintly but didn’t offer anything more, and the lack of detail only made him more aware of how little he actually knew. It wasn’t that he’d ever imagined Vlada lonely, but dating had never been something he’d associated with her either. Female alphas didn’t usually have the luxury of being pursued without stereotypes being attached to it, and most men tended to shrink under the weight of her presence long before things could get personal.
“Do I know him?” he asked.
“I don't think so.”
“Does Nikolai know him?”
“That depends on what you mean by know.”
He frowned. “Vlada.”
She laughed, softer this time. “He’s not dangerous,” she said, like she’d anticipated the concern. “Just… private, and complicated.”
That did very little to reassure him.
Izuku opened his mouth to press further, then glanced down as Alexei shifted in his nest of blankets, dropping one of the ornaments and immediately reaching for it again with intense concentration, tongue poking out slightly in effort. Izuku crouched to pick it up, brushing curls out of his son’s eyes as he handed it back.
“Does he make you happy?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
Vlada didn’t answer right away.
“Yes,” she said finally. “In his own way.”
Izuku glanced back at her then, only to find her staring into the fire, the flames reflecting softly in her eyes as the corners of her mouth tilted upward in a way he rarely ever saw. The usual sharpness of her expression eased into something gentler, almost fond, to the point where even her hair seemed to catch the light differently, shinier somehow, as if the warmth in the room had finally reached her.
“Oh,” he said after a beat, a small laugh slipping out before he could stop it, “so you’re getting laid.”
Vlada looked at him slowly, one eyebrow lifting as a smirk curved her lips. “One of us two has to.”
Izuku tipped his head back with a quiet groan. “Don’t remind me,” he muttered. “It’s like I’m slowly building up the libido and I have absolutely nowhere to put it.”
“You could try sending Kolya a picture of yourself in some ridiculous sexy Christmas set,” she said casually, lifting her glass. “I’d bet money he’d be walking through that door three hours later.”
Izuku laughed, shaking his head as he reached for another ornament. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Oh no,” she replied, sipping her wine, entirely unbothered. “I’m being a hundred percent serious.”
He chuckled and rolled his eyes, already dismissing the idea as impossible, because Nikolai was busy and far away and life simply didn’t work like that.
Movement near his feet caught his attention, and he looked down to find Alexei carefully placing one final bell among the decorations he’d been occupied with all evening.
Only, it wasn’t random at all.
From where Izuku stood, he could clearly make out the shape taking form on the carpet. Ribbons and bells arranged into a crooked triangle, small reindeer plushies clustered at the base like an afterthought, unmistakably Alexei’s interpretation of a Christmas tree.
Vlada followed his gaze. “He’s terrifyingly smart,” she said quietly. “I hope you and Nikolai are ready.”
“I don’t think we’ll ever be,” Izuku replied, smiling as he scooped Alexei up and pressed a kiss to his chubby cheek, murmuring soft praise as his son laughed, delighted by the attention and utterly pleased with himself.
They went back to decorating after that, the room filled with quiet conversation and the soft crackle of the fire, but Vlada’s words stayed with him. Perhaps far too long after she said them.
And maybe, just maybe, he was far too desperate to not at least try it.
࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇
Izuku wasn’t sure if he was being an idiot or a freaking genius, and the longer he stared at the row of photos glowing on his phone screen, the harder it became to tell the difference.
They were… a lot.
Bold, unmistakably suggestive, and undeniably him—sprawled across their bed in red velvet Santa lingerie that felt absurdly daring for someone who still occasionally forgot where he’d left his socks.
Buying the damn thing had been an ordeal all on its own. The kind that left him flushed and painfully aware of his own existence, because finding a sex shop in Prague that carried men’s lingerie meant navigating multiple places, brightly lit interiors, and employees who watched him browse with far too much interest, offering recommendations with an enthusiasm that bordered on invasive.
Izuku had considered calling Vlada halfway through, if only for moral support, but the thought of explaining exactly what he was doing had been humiliating enough that he’d forced himself to see it through alone.
It had taken nearly three hours to find something he could tolerate wearing, let alone feel good in, and even then his confidence had wavered the moment he caught sight of his own reflection.
He was still painfully aware of his body in a way he hadn’t been before Alexei. The stretch marks that hadn’t faded yet, the C-section scar that refused to be subtle, the way his reflection sometimes felt unfamiliar if he looked for too long.
But the set he’d finally chosen helped, just a little. The short skirt sat nicely on his hips, the red tights and garters framed his thighs in a way that made him feel almost sexy, and the small bell at his throat had felt playfully erotic rather than ridiculous and tacky, a detail he’d surprised himself by liking.
He bit at his thumb as he hovered over his phone, the other hand fidgeting uselessly as if pressing send might physically hurt him, which, judging by how hard his heart was pounding, it just might.
“Izuku! We’re starting without you if you don't hurry up!”
Uraraka’s voice carried down the hallway, laughter and the clink of silverware bleeding into the room and grounding him just enough to remember that the world, unfortunately, did not stop spinning for moments like this.
“Just a minute!” he called back, voice higher than he liked.
He looked down at the screen, at the photos he’d taken with shaking hands—the angle from above that caught his thighs pressed together, the red velvet draped over his hips just right, another where he’d bent near the mirror to reveal the thong beneath the skirt, back arched, face buried against one of Nikolai’s white shirts like he was clinging to something familiar.
Heat crept up his neck as he typed.
Since you’re not coming, I’ll have to make do with what I have of you. I hope this Christmas present is to your satisfaction. I love you. Please come home soon.
He hit send before he could overthink it, then promptly tossed his phone across the room, where it landed uselessly in the middle of the empty king-sized bed.
He really doubted Nikolai would hop on a private plane just because of a handful of photos, especially when the past two years had proven, over and over again, that work always came first no matter the excuse. Sure, he’d never tried something like this before, but even then, he knew Nikolai was likely buried under meetings and contracts and whatever crisis demanded his attention this week, not staring at his phone ready to drop everything over red lace and a collar bell.
Thinking about it too much made his chest hurt, so he didn’t.
Instead, he straightened his sweater, and left the bedroom before he could change his mind.
The house was warm in that way that only came from being full of people, laughter echoing softly through the halls as he made his way back toward the main living area. The glow of the fireplace spilled into the corridor first, followed by the low hum of conversation, clinking mugs, and the unmistakable sound of Ochako laughing far too loudly at something that probably wasn’t that funny.
The living room looked like something straight out of a holiday card, and Izuku felt a quiet swell of pride settle in his chest as he took it all in. Not just because of the lights, or the tree, or the way everything seemed to glow just right, but because he’d actually managed to pull this together, to organize schedules that never lined up and convince friends scattered across Japan to make the trip here, to fill Nikolai’s too-big vacation home with warmth and voices and life.
It hadn’t been easy. It had taken planning and compromises and more messages than he wanted to count, but seeing them all here now made it feel worth it, like proof that he could still build something steady and good despite the chaos of the year.
He just wished Nikolai were standing beside him to see it himself instead of through a screen, to feel how full the house was and how much it would mean for Alexei in the years to come.
Izuku let the thought linger for only a moment before carefully setting it aside, knowing better than to pull at that thread when his chest already felt tight, and chose instead to ground himself in what was right in front of him.
Iida sat ramrod straight on one end of the couch, a mug of hot chocolate balanced carefully in both hands, steam fogging up his glasses every few seconds as he pushed them back up his nose. Todoroki occupied the opposite end, relaxed in a way that still somehow managed to look composed, one arm resting along the back of the couch. Mei had claimed the floor near the tree, surrounded by discarded wrapping paper and half-finished cookies, while Tsuyu sat comfortably in the middle with Alexei perched on her lap.
His son, for his part, was busy gnawing determinedly on a snowman plushie, his tiny hands gripping it like it might try to escape, completely unbothered by the attention he was receiving.
He was dressed in a red-and-white Christmas onesie patterned with tiny reindeer and snowflakes, the fabric soft and clearly well-loved already, with little buttons running down the front and matching socks that kept slipping halfway off his feet. Izuku didn’t need to ask to know exactly where it had come from.
Ochako hovered nearby, phone held up at every conceivable angle. “Oh he's so freaking cute!” she said, snapping another picture as Alexei blinked up at her, unfazed. “That one was perfect. Tsu, tilt him just a little—no, the other way.”
“He’s not a Christmas decoration,” Tsuyu said mildly. “You already have about three hundred photos of him from today alone.”
“There can never be too many,” Ochako replied without a shred of shame.
As if agreeing with her, Alexei let out a pleased little noise and smacked the snowman plushie against Tsuyu’s hand, clearly delighted by the attention.
Izuku dropped onto the arm of the couch, watching the scene unfold with fond amusement. “I think you’re spoiling him way too much.”
“Tell me about it,” Tsuyu said. “She dragged me through at least four baby stores trying to find every Christmas onesie they had.”
Ochako gasped dramatically as she shifted closer, lifting Alexei onto her lap and immediately bouncing him a little. “You’re just jealous he liked my gift more than yours.”
Izuku snorted. “He’s liked everything so far.”
“And he’s not done yet,” Tsuyu added.
“Oh—right!” Mei perked up instantly. “Mine’s next!”
She sprang to her feet and darted toward the tree, rummaging beneath it until she triumphantly dragged out a poorly wrapped box, tape crisscrossed in what looked like a last-minute panic.
While Mei was distracted, Izuku glanced toward Iida and Todoroki. “By the way,” he said, lowering his voice slightly, “thank you both for your gifts. The sound box has already been a lifesaver. Alexei gets fussy when it’s too quiet. He likes knowing someone’s around.”
Todoroki nodded. “My sister helped me pick it out. She said she had the same issue with her daughter.”
Iida adjusted his glasses, clearly pleased. “There have been several studies indicating that white noise and soft environmental sounds help infants regulate sleep cycles and reduce anxiety. Controlled auditory stimulation is also beneficial for early brain development.”
Izuku smiled. “Does your gift come with a full research paper?”
“Actually,” Iida said seriously, “yes. I printed one for you.”
Izuku laughed under his breath.
“And the bath controller,” Iida continued, “was non-negotiable. Safety during bathing is extremely important. I was quite surprised to learn you didn’t already have one.”
“It is a good thing I have one now,” Izuku admitted.
“Precisely,” Iida said, satisfied.
“I GOT IT!” Mei suddenly shouted, sliding the box across the floor until it stopped right in front of Alexei. “Okay, baby Volkov, this one’s from me! Just—uh—watch out for the sharp edges!”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Iida was on his feet immediately. “Absolutely not,” he said, stepping in before Alexei could even reach for the box, already bracing himself for whatever dangerous marvel Mei had decided was appropriate for a one-year-old.
Izuku covered his mouth and looked away, laughing quietly as Alexei babbled in protest towards Iida, utterly unaware that he’d just been saved.
They did, eventually, end up opening it for him.
Mei hovered nearby as Iida carefully removed the remaining paper, practically vibrating with excitement, and the moment the lid came off, the room changed entirely. Light spilled outward in slow motion, stars blooming across the walls and ceiling as a galaxy unfolded around them, constellations drifting lazily through the air while comets traced glowing paths above their heads. The living room vanished beneath it all, replaced by the quiet vastness of space, as if they’d been dropped gently into the cosmos.
Everyone fell silent.
Izuku looked down instinctively, and his breath caught when he saw Alexei’s face.
His eyes were wide, impossibly bright as he tilted his head back, tracking the movement above him with complete focus, watching as a cluster of stars passed close enough to shimmer against his cheeks. He shifted in Ochako's lap, lifted one tiny hand, and reached out, fingers brushing through the light just as a small name appeared beside it.
Sirius.
Alexei laughed.
Not a babble, not a pleased sound, but a real laugh, full and unrestrained, as if the universe itself had decided to play just for him.
Izuku felt his vision blur.
“Okay,” Ochako said faintly as she slumped back into the couch, staring upward. “Mei wins.”
“How did you even make this?” Todoroki asked.
Mei launched into an explanation immediately, words tumbling over each other as she started talking about projectors and layered light fields and custom programming, but Izuku barely heard any of it. He stepped forward instead, hands already reaching for Alexei, lifting him gently into his arms.
Alexei immediately tried to grab at the stars again, giggling as planets drifted past his fingers.
Izuku pressed a kiss to his chubby cheek, then another, holding him close as he whispered, “Merry Christmas, Alexei.”
His son babbled happily in response, squirming to reach for the glowing shapes above them, utterly enchanted.
Izuku held him there, surrounded by starlight and warmth and the quiet joy of the moment, and all he could think about was how much he wished Nikolai were there to see it with them, to stand beside him and watch their son laugh like the universe had opened just for him in a Christmas night.
The thought settled softly in his chest as the stars continued to drift overhead, and Izuku let himself stay there for just a little while longer.